


the ghost watches

by GayKravitz



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Character and Relationship study, F/M, a little ooc for reaper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-13 05:36:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11178159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GayKravitz/pseuds/GayKravitz
Summary: The Shrike and The Reaper play a one-sided game.





	the ghost watches

It took so long for her to find him. Every single article or rumor or story of a dark entity, leaving destruction death and carnage in it’s path, somehow made its way to her and she collected every piece of information.

Somehow she caught up to the wraith. The ghost. She knew what he did not. She knew him but he did know her. She had been careful, so careful, at covering her tracks and tying up loose ends. He knew her only by the name of “Shrike”, or “the sniper that keeps following me but never intervening.” She knew him by many names, but “Reaper” is the one that she thought best fit him now.

The Shrike watched for a long time. From afar and just feet away, as he tore his way through bodies; screaming and laughing as blood splattered on both of their masks. Sometimes she made herself known, setting up in a position where he could see her scope glint in the lighting where she watched him look directly at her before moving on. She felt her heart grew heavier every time she saw him. She never spoke, not even when he looked directly at her on her perch and spoke her name.    
  
“Shrike.” The Reaper’s voice was raspy, like something long dead come back to haunt the ones who had done him wrong. “I know who you are.” She just stared, her face unable to be seen and her weapons hidden. She knows that he doesn’t. She’s been too careful. He eventually walked away without another word. She thinks how lucky she was that he didn’t end her then and there, but pushes that concept away. 

Lucky. It wasn’t luck. It’s never been luck that’s kept her alive. The Shrike knows how he works. She knows his mannerisms and speech patterns, even in death. She knows how his brain works. It wasn’t luck that he has kept her alive this long. It was curiosity. He wanted to know why she was following him, watching him. He knows that she has secrets and he’s always been the greedy type. Greedy for friends, greedy for secrets, greedy for love. It’s never been a bad thing. It just is.

They get in their first altercation when The Shrike helps him.

He was hurt, a shotgun wound from long range. She wasn’t sure if backup was coming, but she could see that exhaustion in his movements and knew he wouldn’t last another hour like that. She hopped down from her nest in a bell tower and walks to him, her steps almost silent. He was laying against a wall, clutching his side and his head hanging like he was asleep. She knew better, he would never be more alert than when he was injured.

He looked up when she was mere feet away, his mask tattered and breaking apart and his sharp, steel claws coated in dried blood. He said nothing, just tilted his head as she knelt beside him and pulled out a small first aid kit. When she moved to touch him, he growled and she backed away, still holding the medkit. 

The Reaper moved his hand eventually, showing the torn up skin under his leather cloak. Dark, almost black, blood oozed from it and the sign of an infection was already showing. The Shrike clicked her tongue at his carelessness and went to work. She didn’t bother suturing the wound, he never needed sutures because of his enhancements, plus this was in no need of that. She simply cleaned it up, a hissing sound coming from behind his mask as she applied the liquid, and taped gauze to it. 

She resisted the nostalgic urge to pat his head once she once done, a habit from the past she left behind. The Shrike stood up when she was done, packing her supplies back into the small bag and turning to leave. She was stopped when The Reaper spoke.

“Shrike,” He hissed out her name, his voice low, “Who are you, really?”

She had her back turned to him still, her mind churning to find an answer. Not even she knew. Was she following him just to follow? Was she watching just to watch? She guesses it might be the ghost of a long gone love. Maybe it’s because she just missed him. Maybe she’s worried. There’s no solid reason for any of those excuses. She doesn’t know why she watches. 

“Goodnight, Gabriel.” She doesn’t bother masking her voice or accent. He knows now, after that. Maybe he always knew and that’s the reason he never killed her. A silly thing to consider, but it makes her feel slightly better. The Reaper doesn’t say anything more until she’s out of sight, but not out of an earshot.

“Ana.” Gabriel mutters to himself, perhaps in shock, and Ana walks away, leaving him alone and unwatched for the first time in a while.


End file.
